West of Twin Peaks
In an effort to make the internet explode, the SF Zoo decided to host a Thanksgiving feast for their 14 lemurs:
It was a Thanksgiving feast to remember for the lemurs! The Zoo's Taste of the Wild Catering and Leaping Lemur Cafe Chef, Robert Ulucan, created and prepared an unforgettable feast for 14 of the Zoo's lemurs!
Unfortunately, one lemur was pretty pissed off and wasn't having a good time. Also, no shots of the lemurs attempting to drink the wine? COME ON GUYS.
Ocean Beach Bulletin was lucky enough to score an early copy of the new book, “San Francisco's Playland at the Beach: The Early Years” by local historian James Smith. While the history of a lost oceanfront amusement park might not be your thing, the book is packed with 400 photos and illustrations of the park in its glory years. OBB explains:
Smith’s book shows some of the best-known Playland rides in their earliest incarnations: the Aeroplane Swing; the Dodg-Em bumper cars; construction of the Shoot the Chutes water ride that was the first big attraction to the area (excluding the carousel and perhaps the Pacific Ocean). Check out the 1920s kids waiting in line wearing paperboy caps, ties and knickers. View the extravagant nuttiness and racist iconography of Topsy’s Roost, a dining and dancing venue with slides from elevated “chicken coop” booths to the dance floor below. Topsy, a ragamuffin character from Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” smiles in pickaninny glory on the restaurant façade. San Francisco was no island of racial sensitivity when it came to selling chicken dinners in the 1920s.
The post goes on the talk about getting beat up for your It's-It money and whiskey being sold in coffee cups. Sounds like it was my kind of place.
On Saturday morning, beachgoers were surprised to observe a tremendous concentration of what appear to be moon jellyfish densely packed along the sands of Ocean Beach. The jellyfish, packed in about a 20-foot wide swath, can be most predominantly seen between Pacheco and Lawton Streets.
You can also see more pictures of the horror over at OBB. Personally, I'm a bit disappointed that they didn't get any shots of the beach patrol vehicles having to traverse this minefield, but there's always next time.
Scott Cox recently uploaded a whole mess of shots of mobile murals around The City. While this Park Merced truck was easily my favorite of the lot, his pic of a guy selling pumpkins out of a back on Harrison was truly the masterpiece of the collection. It is one of those rare scenes that actually make the city look like it has a New England autumn, even if the illusion was entirely created by “urban blight” and a half dozen or so fruits. (link)
Jeff McC was at Zeitgeist for the Tamale Lady's birthday when he peeped some Sutro Tower ink. I'm pretty sure this is the most definitive proof that a person, at one time or another, lived in The City. Yeah, I guess you could get a tattoo of the Golden Gate Bridge to prove you lived in the East Bay (??), but that's some tourist shit. Your tattoo is only cool if people east of Antioch have to ask you what it means.
Seems like Sutro tats are not all that rare. Elly has a pretty epic one of her back:
And Chrisr got this design off Etsy:
Yesterday my friends & I got up bright and early (read: around noon) and mobbed out to Baker Beach … after making a quick pit-stop on Clement for some mimosa-making supplies. It was foggy when we got there, so we spread out our blankets on the clothed side - among dudes in Polartec vests walking golden retrievers and a Russian wedding with no fewer than eight inches of clip-in hair extensions per bridesmaid - and ate our lunch.
An hour or so later, the sun broke through the fog, the sky cleared and my friend and I managed to talk everyone else into a mass migration to (dun dun DUN) the Naked Side.
While obviously I can't put naked pictures of myself and my friends frolicking in the ocean on this blog, suffice it to say it was an invigorating experience.
There is truly nothing like climbing on rocks barefoot, seaweed between your toes, as the waves crash all around you, nothing like running naked through the surf with a 40 of High Life in your left hand and a carton of Tropicana in your right. I can't help but throw out a really trite reference here, but … I've sometimes wondered what it's like to be on one of Ryan McGinley's infamous naked roadtrips. If yesterday was any indication, the answer is really, really amazing.
For real though, readers, you all should do this! Maybe you can't afford to jet off to the Ligurian Riviera for topless sunbathing, but it is fully possible to create a little piece of Cinque Terre right here in San Francisco. I'm not a hippie by any means, but being naked in nature is straight-up fun.